


Assistance

by cervidcell



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Enkidu is totally a bit of a tease, Enkidu uses they/them pronouns, F/F, F/M, Massage, Massage into sex, Mirror Sex, NSFW, Reader has a vagina, Reader is not named or described, Reader-Insert, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 00:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cervidcell/pseuds/cervidcell
Summary: "Do you think of me?"They time their comment with the snap of your bra unhooking, and it takes you a moment to comprehend their question."What?""When you touch yourself." Their gaze pierces yours in the mirror - it's dark and seductive, a look you'd only ever dreamt of witnessing from them - and they slip your bra from your shoulders. "Do you think of me doing this to you?"





	Assistance

"You've got such tense shoulders, Master."

Cool fingers dig into the meat of your shoulder blades, rubbing circles into taut muscle.

"You shouldn't push yourself so hard."

"It's fine," you reply, nerves shot from their presence behind you. Close - _so close_ \- and the lack of heat emanating from their body is unnerving. You hear the sound of their clothes shuffling as they readjust their position.

Your eyes lock accidentally in the floor-length mirror in front of you, and you both smile.

"You seem content." Enkidu's gaze drops, hands slipping lower down your body, stopping at your waist to trail back up and loop over your arms. They latch at your wrists, thumb massaging into your joints, before their hands draw off to explore the rest of your body. As they drag their hands over your thighs, the skirt of your dress bunches up a fraction.

You hum in agreement. "I am. You're good at this."

"Thank you."

It's quiet, save for the occasional grunt passing your lips when they press into a particularly rough knot. At one point you gasp, the pain sharp and burning, and they laugh, calling you ' _sensitive_ '. It makes you giddy - a few months ago they would've stopped the moment you expressed any discomfort.

Then again, a few months ago they would barely press deep enough for it to hurt in the first place.

A warmth blooms right underneath their fingertips as they graze your hips. Their touch is gentle, loving, almost reverent, but you're positive you're validating your own desires when you try to meet them in the mirror again. They're transfixed on their own movements, lost in thought.

They're beautiful.

It's a sentiment you've held for a while, now, and it only amplifies in intensity as your bond grows. With each moment they whisk you away with demands to release the tension in your muscles post-battle, you've found yourself selfishly wanting more.

"I, um," you stutter out before you can cut yourself off.

They flicker their gaze to yours in the mirror once more, while their thumbs paint circles into your hips with talented strokes.

"I know a way to, um, de-stress more. If you'd.. be okay with that."

You try not to cringe.

Guilt bubbles thick in the back of your throat as you speak, and to your own ears you sound wobbly, insecure. It must sound a thousand times worse to Enkidu, but they run their hands along your torso, stopping to loosely wrap their arms around your neck. Rose lights your cheeks when they rest their chin on your shoulder, their gaze inquisitive.

Is this.. okay?

Are you taking advantage of them?

Worry floods your veins. If you didn't know better you'd say Enkidu could sense it by the way that they move, the way they brush a loose thread of hair away from your eyes, the way they smile - serene and kind - at you through the mirror.

"Anything you need, Master."

Your throat tightens.

"I was wondering if, uh - I mean, do you even - "

You stutter your way through some halfhearted attempt at bargaining, feeling all the more stupid for suggesting it in the first place.

They watch you, gentle as ever.

"You don't have to if you don't _want_ to, but.."

"Do you want me to get you off?"

It's whispered under their breath, like they're afraid to cut the tension in the air. The way they state it so explicitly - no sugarcoating, no implications, all intents bared for you - it makes you shudder with pent-up nerves and tense energy.

"P-please."

Their lips brush against your jaw, almost timid in nature, but the way they run their fingertips down the length of your torso is anything but.

"Can I kiss you?" You whisper.

"Of course."

It's uncomfortable tilting your head to the side at this angle, but worth it for the feel of their lips on yours, the way they breathe into the kiss, the way their chest heaves against your back. With a sigh you lift a hand to weave into their hair, pulling them into you. You feel their smile as they grip the straps of your dress, rolling them between their fingers.

They drag the straps down your shoulders, making sure to brush their fingers against your skin. Their touch paves the way for your nerves to alight, excited shocks racing through your veins and settling between your legs.

"That's a pretty bra. Is it for me?"

Your cheeks warm at their prodding, and you contemplate ignoring the question.

"Yeah."

Your nerves ease when their lips connect with your jaw again, trailing down your neck where they suck a mark into your throat. You swallow hard under their ministrations.

"How long have you been planning this?"

Their voice is breathy, and their hands tease along the top of your breasts.

"Not planning," you barely hold back your stutter, "But I've.. wanted it for a while, now."

"Oh?" They chuckle, smooth their hands over your breasts and cup the warm flesh in their palms. Their thumbs roll along the peak of your nipples through the fabric. Subconsciously you lean into their touch - it's not enough, you want to feel them against every inch of your skin - but you struggle to find comfort with the warmth between your legs building.

"Do you think of me?"

They time their comment with the snap of your bra unhooking, and it takes you a moment to comprehend their question.

"What?"

"When you touch yourself." Their gaze pierces yours in the mirror - it's dark and seductive, a look you'd only ever dreamt of witnessing from them - and they slip your bra from your shoulders. "Do you think of me doing this to you?"

"I," your throat feels thick, "I have, yes."

"Good girl." There's a smile in their voice that only serves to make you warmer. "I'm glad." They time the comment with another little kiss to your jaw.

A gentle hand rests on your kneecap. You can feel their breath hit your ear - warm, where every other inch of them stays cool. The temperature difference between the two of you sends a thrill of delight down your spine.

"Spread your legs for me?"

You do.

You're a touch uncomfortable with seeing the reflection of yourself spread open for them, but the heat in their gaze keeps you grounded.

"That's a good girl," Enkidu whispers in your ear, a smile in their voice as they drag their hand from your breast. Their touch runs southbound and settles at the apex of your thighs. You shudder, pressing further back into their hold.  
"You really need this, hm?" Their voice is soft, airy, with a hint of humour. You whine in response, and they giggle. "I've got you."

They dance their lithe fingers over your clothed cunt, and when you wriggle in their grasp and stutter out a moan, they shove your panties to the side. It shocks you - their movements are so _confident_ \- and part of you wonders if it's selfish to think you look hot like this, spread eagle with their hands on you. You feel the press of soft lips at your neck right as their finger circles your opening, and with a little ' _shhh_ ', they slip one in. Enkidu mutters sweet praises under their breath as you take the entire length.

"You see how well you take me?" Gold eyes meet yours in the mirror, and you flush, trying to ignore your reflection staring back at you.

"Y-yes."

A chuckle. "No need to be nervous." Their hair tickles your shoulder when they lean forward, rest their chin on your shoulder and curl around you like a content cat. Their warm breath hits the shell of your ear with each loving whisper. "You're stunning."

The desire in their tone is thick.

The compliment falls on deaf ears when another one of their fingers press just below the first and eases in, the movement aided by your slick. They push in to the knuckle, and _right there_ , they arch their fingertips upwards, rubbing against your G-spot with trained movements.

You sigh and drop your head back onto their shoulder, whispering an expletive under your breath. For someone who refers to themselves as a weapon, their fingers are long, dainty, and smooth. With them trailing kisses from just under your eye down the length of your face, the only thing that seems _weaponly_ about them at all is their precision. If you didn't know any better, you'd say they were created for pleasure, certainly not for pain.

You lean back into their touch. They're sturdy and comfortable against you, and the feeling of comfort is only amplified by the way their free hand wraps around your waist. You feel the press of their lips against the crown of your skull just as their thumb does a nice smooth roll against your clit, flicking it _just so_ that a spark of pleasure runs up your spine.

The way they play your body is talented, well-studied; each touch of theirs is confident, like they've spent a lifetime studying _you_. The thought that maybe they've thought of you like this, too, makes you giddy.

That talent gets put to good use when they brush the pads of their fingers against your G-spot.

You sigh and roll your hips, soaking in the attention they lave your body in. Soft lips latch onto your throat and suck right as they curl their fingers and focus on your G-spot. You gasp and feel your thighs clench, tears building at the corners of your eyes.

"Look at me, love."

You force your eyes open again, meeting them in the mirror where they smile at you with seductively lowered lashes. " _Fuck_ , Enkidu."

"Yes?" Their lips trail up the length of your neck to press at the shell of your ear, cool tongue slipping out to lap the length of it.

"Please," you whisper, and they kiss the top of your head. You lean into their touch.

"Please what, Master?"

You whine a halfhearted response, unable to to respond with them buried so deep inside you. They brush their thumb along the bud of your clit, swirling it around in slow, gentle circles while they fuck you with steady, precise movements.

You grasp into the cloth of their loose shirt right as they swirl their thumb over your clit with intent. "Please make me cum."

A thoughtful hum is your answer, teasing and contemplative in tone, and you prepare yourself to beg and plead -

An arm scoops around your waist and readjusts you against them, so that you rest seated in their lap. The new position gives you the freedom to spread your legs wider.

From the way they smirk at you in the mirror, you gather they're taking advantage of that fact.

"You're such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this." They whisper, voice dripping with arousal. They run their thumb over your clit, swirl taut little circles along the nub _right_ as their fingers dig into the depths of your cunt, aimed perfectly to drive you wild.

There's a comfort in the way they breathe deep in your ear, short huffs and pants brushing warm breath onto the shell of it, the occasional cool touch of tongue on skin driving you wild.

"Let go," their voice is soft, beautiful, hitched in a way you wouldn't have noticed if you didn't spend your time analysing their every movement. "I want you to cum for me."

" _Yes_ ," you feel yourself burning up, head swimming with the way they work your body, the way their fingers drag along the ridges of your cunt, the way their thumb picks up the pace on your clit. "B-bite -"

Enkidu cuts you off with a nip to your neck, and you whine low and needy in response. You feel your cunt tighten around their fingers. Their thumb rolls harder against your clit and your thighs are shaking with your impeding release, closer, _hotter_ -

"You're so beautiful," they moan - the sound amplified by a shudder, and their tightening grip around you - and the sheer arousal in their tone has you seeing white, throat taut and head thrown back as you rut against their hand.

Their name tears from your lips - punctuated with a gasp of ' _fuck me, fuck yes_ ' babbled in the pleasure of it all - and they reward your begging with a hard suck at your collarbone. You cum harder than usual, their name flying from your lips amongst a mantra of praises. They fuck you through your hips motions, prolonging your orgasm with calculated movements.

The nips at your throat turn into gentle kisses as they draw their way down the length of your neck, along your collarbone and stopping at your shoulder as you come down from your high, body lax against their chest.

Moments like these remind you just how comfortable Enkidu is, despite their strength.

"Fuck," you pant in the arms, and they laugh.

"You feel better?"

It's a little gross, the way your cunt sounds as they remove their fingers from your depths. The smell of your cum makes you blush, but if Enkidu's bothered by it at all, they show no sign of it.

"I do," you close your legs discreetly, avert your gaze from the mirror in shame. "Thank you."

Despite your release, your cheeks burn and you shrink into yourself, overtly aware of the way they stare.

"You're very welcome." Enkidu smiles, curls around you to press a gentle kiss at the corner of your lips. The contact makes you smile and loosen your shoulders.

They shuffle from behind you, and you hear the gentle tapping of bare feet on the ground, before they pause at the door.

"Just know, Master," they meet your gaze once more, a smile edged with cattiness painted on their lips, "I'm always happy to help. _Especially_ if you need to.. _relax_."

Their grin bares the whites of their teeth just a touch before they're off, leaving you to contemplate just how soon is _too_ soon to ask for more.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to fuck the clay.
> 
> Thanks to my cute friends for inspiring me, and to my readers for motivation <3
> 
> Tumblr @ cervidcell.tumblr.com!


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